“Zhong Xue, fifteen years old, lives alone with her grandmother who is over seventy. The family is destitute. Yesterday, during the wei hour, she went out to South Market to buy something and never came home. This morning, Grandmother Zhong went to the Jingzhao Prefecture to report the case, accompanied by neighbors. The officer who took the case happened to be Adjutant Wan, who then passed the information to me.” Ling Zhiyan walked at a brisk pace. “Adjutant Wan said he would have people brought to the South Market office as quickly as possible to facilitate the investigation. Let us hope this is simply an ordinary case of someone going missing—”

Hua Yitang frowned in silence. Lin Sui’an’s heart was heavy, and she had no desire to speak either. Jin Ruo occasionally glanced back at the small shadow trailing behind their group. The little beggar boy, the moment he caught sight of Ling Zhiyan, shrank back in fright, yet despite his apparent wariness of government officials, he did not leave — he simply followed at a distance, like a startled little rabbit.

The market office was situated at the center of South Market, a self-contained compound with a gate facing due south. Two stone beasts stood guard before the entrance. To the left was a tall bulletin board of red mahogany, plastered with all manner of notices and announcements — shops for rent, shops for sale, businesses being transferred, properties for purchase, and even promotional notices from several establishments. The center section was reserved for official government announcements, and the two most prominent notices there were a missing person notice for Feng Er Niang and a corpse identification notice from the Court of Judicial Review. To the right of the main gate stretched a long row of smaller bulletin boards, about a dozen of them, each roughly half a person’s height and about half the size of a writing desk, surfaced with white paper bearing the day’s prices from the three great markets of the Eastern Capital. Naturally, not every commodity was listed — only representative reference prices. In the fresh produce section, the reference items were eggs and chicken: eggs at three for one wen, chicken at thirty-three wen per bird. In the grain section, the reference was millet, at forty wen per dou, with a conversion note that five dou of millet could be exchanged for three dou of rice. Handcrafted goods were extraordinarily expensive in this era — fine bowls went for forty wen, mid-grade ones for thirty-five wen, and lower-grade ones for thirty wen. As for the luxury item of tea cakes, the prices were downright absurd: one piece of the highest grade went for two hundred wen, mid-grade one hundred ninety wen, and lower-grade one hundred eighty wen. The unit of measurement was unstated.

Ming Shu and Ming Feng came rushing out to meet them.

Ming Shu: “Lord Ling, Adjutant Wan and the others have already arrived.”

Ming Feng: “Grandmother Zhong and the neighbors all came together — there are quite a lot of people.”

Ling Zhiyan paused mid-step and turned back. “Grandmother Zhong is advanced in years and has been ill for a long time. Zhong Xue is her only living kin, so—”

“Don’t worry.” Hua Yitang clapped Ling Zhiyan on the shoulder. “I understand.”

The little beggar boy was huddled beneath the bulletin board, peering at them timidly. Lin Sui’an shot Jin Ruo a meaningful look. Jin Ruo produced a piece of white sugar cake and dangled it temptingly. “If you promise not to speak out of turn once we go inside, I’ll give you this sugar cake. What do you say?”

The little beggar boy came trotting over, eyes fixed on the sugar cake. He swallowed, then shook his head firmly. “I won’t cause trouble. I just want to find Sister Xue’er. I don’t want your sugar cake.”

Jin Ruo smiled, scooped him up, and ruffled his little head. “Good boy.”

The front courtyard of the market office was packed. More than ten officers of the law, each carrying an iron ruler at their waist, stood stationed around the perimeter. The rest were common folk — roughly forty or more people, men and women, young and old, all wearing anxious expressions and speaking in hushed voices. At the very center stood an elderly woman with snow-white hair at her temples, supported on either side by a blacksmith and a middle-aged woman. She was stooped and trembling, and her expression was difficult to make out. Wan Lin and a green-robed official stood at the outer edge of the crowd. The green-robed official appeared to be around forty years old, with a neatly groomed three-part beard. His eyes held a faint brownish tint — he had the lineage of a northern people — and he was the supervising official of South Market, a man named Cui Mao.

When Wan Lin spotted Ling Zhiyan, his eyes lit up and he stepped forward to present the wanted portrait of Zhong Xue. She was depicted as a girl with delicate features, hair done in double buns, standing five chi tall, slender of build, and last seen wearing a yellow-brown half-sleeve top and a plain gauze skirt.

Cui Mao lowered his voice in reminder: “Lord Ling Sicheng, that is Zhong Xue’s grandmother over there.”

The low murmuring within the courtyard instantly ceased. Countless eyes snapped toward them all at once.

The white-haired old woman dropped to her knees with a thud, tears streaming down her aged face, her voice hoarse and raw. “I beg the officials, please save my Xue’er! Please save my Xue’er!”

Almost simultaneously, the assembled townsfolk dropped to their knees as well, calling out in unison:

“We beg the officials, please save young Miss Zhong!”

“Young Miss Zhong grew up before our eyes — there is no finer child under heaven. We cannot let that Xiangliu monster take her life!”

“We beg the officials to catch that accursed Xiangliu!”

“Xiangliu drinks human essence and blood and spreads ruin wherever it goes — we beg the officials to rid the people of this menace, to subdue the demon and drive out the monster!”

The muscles across Ling Zhiyan’s back visibly tensed for a moment. Lin Sui’an could even see the veins stand out along the back of his neck. Recalling how he had reacted the last time he faced grieving victims’ families — and how similar that was to the scene before them now — she felt a sense of unease. Surely Lord Ling Sicheng was not about to have another episode?

“Do not listen to rumors! This is nothing more than an ordinary missing person case — it has nothing to do with any demon or monster!” Wan Lin raised his arm and called out loudly, “Everyone, please stand up first. We will absolutely find the person!”

Cui Mao added: “That is right — talk of demons and monsters causing harm is sheer nonsense and rumor. We have already sent people to search!”

Not a single commoner rose to their feet. Grandmother Zhong’s sobs grew even more hoarse and heartbreaking. Mingled with the cries of the crowd, the sound echoed through the market office like the ringing of bronze bells and cauldrons, gradually spreading outward:

“We beg the officials to kill the wicked demon Xiangliu, to rid the people of this menace, to subdue evil and restore peace to the land!”

The sound quickly spread beyond the market office walls. South Market was already the most lively district in the Eastern Capital, full of streaming crowds, and there were many longstanding shops outside the office as well. More and more people gathered at the gate to watch. When they heard clearly what those inside were shouting, their faces changed, and they began whispering frantically among themselves. The crowd swelled and swelled, as though all of South Market were being drawn there.

Lin Sui’an felt a prickle of unease. Something was off about the way these people were reacting.

They all spoke with one voice — as if someone had specifically instructed them to do so.

Ling Zhiyan’s expression darkened. He stepped forward, about to speak, when Hua Yitang suddenly pressed his fan against Ling Zhiyan’s shoulder and spoke first:

“Preposterous! I, the fourth son of the Hua Family, studied under the Maoshan Sect, have been granted the Heaven Eye and obtained sacred instruments, have traveled the four corners of the land, and have seen a hundred ghosts and discerned ten thousand demons — and I have never once heard of any such creature called Xiangliu!”

It was not a loud voice, yet it had a startling effect. In an instant, the entire market office, inside and out, fell into dead silence.

Ling Zhiyan was alarmed, and whispered urgently: “Hua Yitang, what are you saying?!”

Jin Ruo: “Hey, hey, hey — you can’t just say things like that!”

“The Fourth Young Master of the Hua Family has never spoken an empty boast from the day he left his mother’s womb.” Hua Yitang snapped open his fan with a crack and swept it back and forth a couple of times in wide, sweeping arcs. The fanned breeze sent the hair at his temples flying, catching the light until it seemed gilded with gold, and his features appeared all the more strikingly handsome and brilliant — combined with the air of noble refinement that surrounded him, he genuinely looked like a divine immortal untouched by the mortal world. “My honored teacher is Master Shi Ye of the Maoshan Sect. No demon or specter can conceal itself in my presence. Since you all insist with such conviction that it is Xiangliu doing the killing, then speak clearly to me — what exactly does this Xiangliu look like? How does it kill? Have any of you seen it with your own eyes?!”

At this challenge, the crowd fell into a collective stupor. Only Lin Sui’an smiled.

A masterful move — drawing the snake out of its hole.

The townsfolk glanced at one another and all began speaking over each other.

“I heard Xiangliu has nine heads and the body of a serpent, and is consumed by greed — it especially loves to feed on the essence and blood of young, beautiful women!”

“That’s right, that’s right — the several female corpses recently found in the waterways were all Xiangliu’s doing!”

“They say those corpses looked beautiful, as if they were merely sleeping. If they were ordinary bodies, after soaking in water for several days they’d be unrecognizable — so how could they look like that? It must be the work of a demon!”

“I heard Xiangliu only drains the essence and blood, then leaves the body behind like an empty shell.”

“I also heard that Xiangliu, being a ferocious beast, not only consumes people by the multitude, but that wherever it passes, all becomes swampland. These female corpses were all found in the water — doesn’t that match perfectly?!”

The more the crowd spoke, the more details emerged, in increasingly elaborate variations. What was worse, quite a few of the people outside the market office also joined the discussion enthusiastically, each speaking with vivid specificity. The expressions on Ling Zhiyan and Wan Lin’s faces grew more and more grim. They had assumed the rumors of a demon’s work were confined to a small area — but now it was clear the rumors had spread far faster and far wider than anyone had anticipated.

Hua Yitang tapped his chin with the folded fan and listened very carefully. Unlike the others, the more he listened, the brighter his eyes became, and the smile at the corner of his lips grew more and more pronounced — as if he were listening to some splendid tale from a storyteller. Then, abruptly, he pointed his fan at a middle-aged woman in the crowd and raised his voice: “This lady here — you say Xiangliu has nine heads and the body of a serpent. Could it be that you have seen it yourself?”

The woman was suddenly singled out and immediately waved her hands in denial. “No, no, no — I was just saying what everyone else was saying.”

Hua Yitang: “And who specifically told you?”

“That… I can’t quite remember…”

“This is no small matter. Please think carefully.” Hua Yitang broke into a kind and guileless smile. “No need to rush. Take your time.”

The woman visibly blanked for a moment, then blinked. “Ah — it was Xu Family’s eldest daughter-in-law who told me.”

A woman a few people away gave a start. “I only heard it from someone else too,” she said quickly — then, catching Hua Yitang’s gaze turning her way, she hurried on: “I heard it from Aunt Li next door.”

Aunt Li: “I heard it from Pig-Butcher Rong.”

Pig-Butcher Rong: “I heard it from Silversmith Zhang.”

Silversmith Zhang: “I heard it from Leatherworker Li and Old Tian.”

Leatherworker Li: “I heard it from Wang Er.”

Old Tian: “I heard it from Old Man Ma.”

Old Man Ma: “I heard it from Hu Si—”

Before, every single person had spoken with absolute conviction, as if they had witnessed it firsthand — but the moment they were singled out, each one claimed to have heard it from another. One person pointed to two, two to four, four to ten. And so a curious phenomenon emerged: the voices calling out formed irregular points scattered throughout the crowd, and these points connected into tangled, web-like lines — lines of human relationship, lines of rumor propagation. Gradually, these lines began to converge and gather, and just as they were on the verge of tracing back to a single source, the blacksmith standing beside Grandmother Zhong suddenly leapt to his feet and erupted in furious cursing:

“Young Miss Zhong has been taken by Xiangliu and her life hangs by a thread — and instead of going to rescue her, you people stand here twisting things around! What are your true intentions?! Do you simply not want to save her? Or is it that this so-called Maoshan Sect disciple identity of yours is nothing but a lie—”

A sharp gust of wind sliced across the top of the blacksmith’s head. His hair bun snapped apart with a crack, and loose strands of hair tumbled over his face. The blacksmith’s legs gave out from under him and he sat down hard on the ground.

The crowd recoiled in collective shock. No one had seen what happened. By sheer reflex, every eye turned to Hua Yitang — who gave a slight flicker of his brow, snapped open his fan, and struck a haughty pose. As if on cue, a gust of wind chose that very moment to blow in, sending his robes billowing and swirling, as though he had ridden the wind in and might at any moment ascend upon it and vanish.

“I will not hear another word of slander against my honored teacher. This time was a small warning and a stern lesson. If there is a next time, watch your head.” Hua Yitang said coldly.

The blacksmith’s face had gone ashen, and cold sweat broke out on his brow.

Jin Ruo stared at Lin Sui’an, jaw dropping. If he had not been mistaken just now, Lin Sui’an’s Qian Jing had cleared the sheath twice — the first time to sever the blacksmith’s hair bun, the second time to press a gust of wind against the blade to send the air current flying. Her speed had been too fast, and her position too unobtrusive. He estimated that aside from himself, no one else had noticed her movements.

No — there was one other person who had noticed. And who had shamelessly exploited it, playing the ghost, playing the spirit.

That Hua Yitang was truly born into a lineage of cunning and deceit, treacherous to the bone.

“As for the rest of you,” Hua Yitang pointed toward the seven or eight people who still remained, “who told you?”

They were all farmhands, roughly forty years old, and they exchanged glances, an odd expression crossing their faces. Without prior agreement, they all looked toward the blacksmith. “We… a few days ago, when we were drinking with Blacksmith Zhao, we heard it from him…”

Blacksmith Zhao’s face went green. “I — I also heard it from someone else—”

“Grandmother Zhong,” Hua Yitang interrupted him, “who told you that Zhong Xue was taken by Xiangliu?”

Grandmother Zhong’s eyes were swollen from weeping, and she seemed somewhat dazed. She wiped her tears and said, “Xue’er didn’t come home all night, and I was frantic — before it was even light I went out to look for her, and I ran into… ran into… Sister Wang—”

“I remember,” the woman beside Grandmother Zhong called out. “I was going to go with Grandmother Zhong to find the neighborhood head. On the way, we ran into Blacksmith Zhao. The moment he heard that young Miss Zhong had been out all night, he said she had certainly been taken by Xiangliu, and told us to gather the neighbors and go to the Jingzhao Prefecture together to report the case—”

“Oh?” Hua Yitang smiled with an air that held no warmth. “So it seems Blacksmith Zhao is quite an authority on the subject of Xiangliu!”

“In that case, please come with me to the Court of Judicial Review for a more detailed conversation.” Ling Zhiyan gave a look. Ming Shu and Ming Feng led the officers of the law in a unified sweep to surround the man. Some of the onlookers were still confused, while others had already caught on. They seized hold of the people beside them and quickly backed away. Grandmother Zhong was also helped to one side.

Blacksmith Zhao was drenched in sweat, kneeling on the ground and shouting in repeated denial: “I — I’ve been wronged! I really did hear it from someone else! Xiangliu is killing people, it’s truly Xiangliu doing the killing — I was only trying to save people!”

Hua Yitang’s voice sharpened with cold authority: “Who did you hear it from?! Give a name! Where do they live?!”

Blacksmith Zhao: “It was — it was—”

Then, just at that moment, a streak of black flashed through the air, shooting straight for Blacksmith Zhao’s throat. In the span of a breath, a bolt of green light flared like lightning and sliced through it at the middle. Two halves of a broken arrow clattered to the ground.

“An assassin — don’t let him die.” Even as Lin Sui’an’s words left her mouth, she was already moving — leaping up a pillar, grabbing hold of the eaves, vaulting onto the rooftop, and sprinting off in one direction. Her voice carried back to them from a distance: “Jin Ruo! Keep up!”

Jin Ruo stuffed the little beggar boy into Hua Yitang’s arms, bolted out through the main gate of the market office, and hollered after her: “Lin Sui’an, at least give a warning first—”

The two moved with the swiftness of hares and falcons, disappearing in the blink of an eye. By the time everyone else had gathered their wits, they were already gone — leaving the crowd in stunned disbelief.

Blacksmith Zhao had narrowly escaped death. Pale and soaked through with cold sweat, he lay collapsed on the ground, completely spent.

Ling Zhiyan turned to Hua Yitang in astonishment — only to find that Hua Yitang’s face had gone very long indeed. He was engaged in a glaring contest with the little beggar boy in his arms. “You little brat, stop grabbing my collar — this is a new seasonal style—ugh, you did it again!”